


Ruin

by m3aculpa



Category: Ripley Series - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-30
Updated: 2011-09-30
Packaged: 2017-10-24 05:01:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/259293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m3aculpa/pseuds/m3aculpa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s all part of the game, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ruin

**Author's Note:**

> **Title:** Ruin  
>  **Fandom:** Ripliad (Ripley's Game movie-verse)  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Characters/Pairings:** Tom Ripley, Jonathan Trevanny, Tom Ripley/Jonathan Trevanny  
>  **Warnings:** Dub-conish, rimming  
>  **Word count:** 496 words  
>  **Summary** : It’s all part of the game, anyway.

It’s exquisite. The way the muscles tremble as he slowly peels away the clothing and reveals the body he has only fantasised about since he heard the man insult him. It’s noticeable that he is ill. The pale skin has a slightly bluish tint to it; not noticeable in sunlight. But in the candlelight it’s obvious. The ribs stretch the paper thin skin tight and the ribs slide beneath his fingers, as the young man inhales gulps of air.  
   
“Don’t,” the man whispers.  
   
He pauses momentarily, but watches intensely the man beneath him. Jonathan squirms and averts his eyes, blushing at the oddness of the situation. The wine is making him relaxed, so have the games and the conversation. His body is pliant, really. Ripe for taking. It’s only his mind that is putting up a token of protest.  
   
“You want me to stop?” he asks quietly.  
   
The young man bites his lips hesitantly. He worries it between his teeth and Ripley cannot stop watching. For some reason he reminds Ripley of another young man with dark eyes and dark hair. A voice that murmured to him and laughed with him, wanting to chase the demons away. He crushes the thought. Peter was cared for, nurtured. Nothing like Jonathan, who is fragile and clearly wasting away. There are no similarities between them.  
   
“No,” Jonathan admits softly.  
   
He laughs. “Then turn over.”  
   
Jonathan does and Ripley kneels between his legs. He nips playfully at the buttocks before moving in between the cheeks. He nuzzles them and inhales the musky scent. The skin is jumping nervously. Teasingly he flicks his tongue out and Jonathan murmurs in interest. When he laps over the sensitive skin, Jonathan moves and arches. It’s sensual and erotic and makes Ripley harden even more.  
   
He’s wanted him since he walked in on that conversation. He’s wanted to dominate him and mark him as his own. Now he has him and he has no intention of letting go.  
   
Jonathan cries out in shock and pleasure when the firm muscle worms its way into his entrance. Ripley fucks him with his tongue, taking pleasure in the sighs and moans and ‘more, please, oh God, _more_ ’. When Jonathan is trembling more from the pleasurable sensation, than apprehension, Ripley reaches for the oil and replaces his tongue with his fingers. He slowly warms up and opens Jonathan up, stroking his inside into readiness. The young man is too far gone to protest even if he wanted to. His eyes are glazed and the curls stick to his forehead. The face is sex-flushed and the arousal has smoothed out the lines written by his illness.  
   
Ripley finds him even more desirable.  
   
When he’s thrusting in and out of that tight, pliant body to the symphony of sighs and mewls of pleasure, of hips meeting his every move, he thinks in amusement that he might have ruined the boy. But he doesn’t mind.  
   
It’s all part of the game, anyway.  
  



End file.
